


Straight On For You

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marianne and Bog roleplay meeting for the first time under somewhat different circumstances...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Straight On For You

**Author's Note:**

> Second half of my double post for my fanfic-iversary! Thank you to suzie guru, smutterflybog, magic-and-moonlit-wings, and anonymous for voting for option #3. #2 is now in the works!
> 
> Enjoy, my filthy darlings! ;)

The night was cool and still, the perfect contrast to the sweltering summer temperatures that had robbed all the creatures of their precious vitality during the daylight hours.  Now, it was peaceful and all things slept like the dead.

Except for one.

She moved like smoke in the shadows; smooth and unseen.  So excellent was her training, that even when she had to dart across a few sparse patches of moonlight, not a single silvery beam was quick enough to glint off her purple butterfly wings and give away her location. 

For the most part, she kept under the brush to mask her scent from any of the several remaining and tired scouts as she made her way deeper and deeper into their domain. She almost giggled at how ironic it would be if she _were_ caught, considering her goal was for their ultimate benefit. 

When she got her first glimpse of the royal castle peeking through the distant trees, her muscles flexed with even more determination.  Tonight, she would at last bring liberation to this land of darkness and fear.

And finally earn some goddamn respect from those dried up, sexist, pigs on the Fairy Council!

For centuries, the Dark Forest had been a place of savage peril, populated by hordes of fierce, treacherous goblins.  Every year, the Fairy Kingdom had to deal with seemingly endless violent encounters, though the death toll had suspiciously been at zero for the last decade or two.  Up until recently, everyone thought of goblins as nothing more than mindless, bloodthirsty bullies, but then their network of brownie spies stumbled upon some vital information that was long overdue: 

The goblins were actually surprisingly docile, but terribly disorganized, and were far more likely to rip each _other_ apart if left to their own devices.  They needed guidance.  A leader.  A boss.

And boy, did they ever have one.

It turns out the Dark Forest was governed by a monarchy, much like her own, except it operated more like a wolf pack than a proper line of succession.  The strongest, fastest, and smartest was in charge, and right now, the goblins were under the almighty, iron-fisted command of someone called: ‘The Bog King’, and if the rumors were correct, he was a monster in every sense of the word.  Any dissention whatsoever was dealt with swiftly, and the results were gruesome. 

Suddenly, it had all made sense.  Goblins never attacked unless either provoked, or ordered to.  Their king, and all the kings before him, were responsible for their brutish behavior; making them operate like a military gang.  They couldn’t eat, sleep, or even _sneeze_ without his permission. 

Well, that was all going to end tonight.  No one so ruthless and tyrannical deserved to have so much as a single subject.  Ever since she was a child, she’d dreamed of establishing better relations with the Dark Forest, a naïve notion she’d banished when the goblins attacked the Elf Festival last year while her younger sister was there.  Although there were no casualties, unless you counted the band instruments, the incident hit just too close to home for comfort.  Tomorrow would dawn the era of unionization for the goblins, whether they liked it or not.   

When she came upon the castle, there was a stretch of open space between it and the tree line, not to mention more guards watching the perimeter.  Running on the balls of her feet, since flying was out of the question, she ducked behind the various clumps of briar bushes dispersed throughout the clearing, getting closer and closer to the stump fortress. 

When she made it to the north wall, she planted her back against it and edged around the side, where the shadow of a nearby sycamore was the thickest.  She almost cheered out loud to herself when she instantly found an alcove in the bark that was the ideal place to start climbing. 

Her delight was cut off when she heard a cough from the far left.  She turned and bit back a curse as she saw the dim outline of a spindly gnome-goblin standing just by the corner in the moonlight.  Its pig-like nose sniffed the air inquisitively, and Marianne’s right hand balled into a ready fist when she saw it look in her general direction…

.

.

.

…but thankfully, it shrugged to itself and resumed its patrol back the way it came.    

She sighed with relief and started scaling the wall before any other guard could come by.  The craggily surface was chock full of nature-made foot and hand holds so it was practically impossible to fall or make any noise.  In no time, she was high enough so that the whoosh of her wings wouldn’t give her away to the goblins below, and she soared up the rest of the way to the grand balcony above. 

Approaching the bolted double doors, she unsheathed her knife and inserted the point of the blade into the crack to lift the latch.  Silent as the grave, she cautiously pushed the door ajar and snuck into the room.  It was sparsely furnished, with a desk and rickety chair to her right, and a cracked, full mirror on the left.  Against the opposite wall, was a massive, circular moss bed, and laying upon it, fast asleep, was the Bog King.

She took a minute to stare at him in intrigued amazement.  To be honest, she hadn’t really put much stock into the few reports she’d read about his appearance.    Apparently, he was an extremely rare breed of winged, insect goblin hybrid on his father’s side that was considered by the mass majority of his species to be…less than visually appealing.  However, as she scanned his dozing form, she found him to be nothing like the hideous beast she’d heard of; at least aesthetically. 

He was lofty, she could tell that he probably had a foot on her.  His limbs were wiry, but looked powerful, nonetheless.  His build was lean, with a thin, elongated waist, broad chest and wide shoulders, which were covered in armor-like plates.  In fact, his whole body was covered in a sort of exoskeleton.  His hands and feet were large and clawed.  His face was narrow and gaunt, with thorn stubble coating his chin, but his barely parted mouth looked rather gentle, despite the glimpse of crooked, sharp fangs she could see behind his lips.  He was lying on his back, but she could see four, lengthy iridescent wings with a few tears along the edges, peeking out next to his legs; which, by the way, seemed to go on for days!   

She balked when she realized she was ogling him, and that her heart was suddenly thumping.  Must’ve been the excitement of being only seconds away from making history.  Oddly…attractive or not, he was still a villain that had to be stopped at all costs.   

She crept up to the left side of the bed and cast a quick glance at the ornate, metal staff propped on the wall.  An amber stone was strapped into the decorative crown, so it was probably a symbol of royalty.  She wondered if her father would need it to validate his new authority over the goblins once her mission here was done. 

Gripping her weapon in both hands, and ignoring the rather tantalizing sound of the goblin’s deep breathing, she took a steady inhale, preparing herself to take a life for the first, and hopefully _last_ , time.

This was it.  She raised the dagger over the Bog King’s neck.

But before she could move, two eyes as blue as the hottest zone of a fire, flashed up at her.  She immediately went to stab him, but her single blink of startled hesitation already made it too late.  The Bog King’s left hand shot out and snatched both her wrists like a vise.  She flapped her wings in an attempt to rear back and pull free, but her captor launched himself out of the bed and clamped his knees around her own.  Now flying was not an option, for he was much too heavy to carry or drag. 

Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight like a wildcat anyway.     

“Well, well.”  The Bog King spoke in a husky, accented voice as she thrashed.  “What do we have _here_?”

She’d been correct about his height.  Even as he was crouching to keep her legs locked in place, he _towered_ over her.  It made her insides quake, but……not in fear.  She didn’t know _what_ she was feeling, and that confusion made her even more furious.

“Let me go, you dung-heap!”

He ignored her demand _and_ insult in favor of examining the pendant on her necklace; her family’s crest.

“A _princess_?”  He said with blatant astonishment before barking out an amused laugh.  “Yer council must be gettin’ _desperate_.  What is it, the fourth time this month?  And now they’re sendin’ the heir to the _throne_ after me?”

Knowing that there was no chance for peace as long as the Bog King was alive, the Fairy Kingdom had called for an assassination attempt.  Obviously, it was unsuccessful, as were the dozen and a half others that followed.  What was _worse_ was that none of the assassins had been killed.  A couple had to bail out and managed to make it back unharmed, but the rest were found hog-tied at the border, beaten up and smeared with mud and pond scum.  The message was clear: the Bog King was mocking them!

“Nobody _sent_ me!”  Marianne snapped, jerking against him.  “I came on my own!”

“ _Really_ , now?”  He quirked an eyebrow, but appeared genuinely impressed.  “Thought ye’d make a name fer yerself before yer reign’s even begun?”

“I was _trying_ ,” she hissed, baring her teeth directly in his face, “to free the goblins from _your_ tyranny!   You _force_ them to act like thugs to my people and then you treat them like _slaves_!  You don’t deserve to rule over _anything_!”

Her struggles peaked as she threw her whole weight into it, but it only managed to make the Bog King stumble a couple of steps.  His steely grasp on her wrists and legs remained unbroken.

“Feisty, aren’t ye?”  He grinned before glancing up at her knife.  “I’ll bet that makes ye real popular among those wrinkled old crows ye have fer a council.”

Marianne bristled and narrowed her eyes at him.

“That is _none_ of your business, so _shut_ up!”

“Says the fairy that just barged into my castle to take me out and steal my subjects.”

“The _name_ is _Marianne_!”

“Charmed.”  He smirked before gesturing to her weapon.  “But how about we get rid of _that_ now?  I dorn’t think ye’ll be needin’ it anymore.” 

She did her best to hold onto her blade, but the Bog King’s long, nimble fingers were able to pry it from her hands with relative ease.   He tossed the dagger to the floor and it skittered under the bed and out of sight.   

Her violent flailing continued for several moments until her energy was drained and she had to sag in defeat.  The Bog King had spent the whole time watching her with an unreadable expression.  Only when she calmed, was there a spark in his features.

Something like…

…keen interest.

“Never been _this_ close to a fairy before.”  He stated, leaning towards her and raking his eyes over her figure, which, weirdly enough, was starting to feel _shamefully_ underdressed.  “None of the others ever made it as far as my _bedroom_.  Yer certainly the most capable assassin I’ve ever had, not to mention the _loveliest_."  

She blushed, but scowled at him.

"Too bad I woke up before ye could do the deed, huh?”

“Yes; _too_ bad.” 

“Hmm…”

Without seeming to realize what he was doing, the Bog King curiously fingered the hem of her tunic, making her jump.

“Don’t you _dare_ touch me you-you…you…!”

“You what?”

“You cockroach!”

“ _Cockroach_ , eh?”  He snorted at her.  “How original.  I’ve only heard it five thousand times in my life.” 

All at once, the humor vanished as quickly as it’d come, and he was nose to nose with her, leaving her nowhere to look but straight into those arresting cerulean eyes. 

“And by the way, _I_ am _king_ here, so I’ll do whatever I damn well please!”

He deliberately palmed her side to accentuate the point. 

“Why you-!  You’ll _pay_ for this!”  She warned.  “My sister, her fiancé, and my handmaidens know where I am.  I swore them to secrecy, but if I’m not back before sunrise, or if any harm comes to me, there’ll be an army on your doorstep first thing tomorrow!"

“I’m shakin’,” was his deadpan reply as he went on running his hand over her torso, “but fer yer information, yer _highness_ , I have no intention of harmin’ ye.”

“What, and I’m supposed to _trust_ you?”

“Implicitly.”

“Hah!”

“Scoff if ye must, but it’s the truth.  Little known fact about us goblins: we’re honest to a fault.”

“Yeah, and also hostile, cruel, v-vulgar…stu…stubborn…and…and…”

Her eyes drooped and she trailed off as a distracting flame began to spread wherever his exploring hand went:  her stomach, her waist, her hip, her back, her arm…

“And _what_?”

-her breast.

“… _d-dirty_.”

He chuckled and broke the spell.  She pulled away from him as much as she could. 

Who _was_ this goblin?

“What are you _doing_?!”

“Nothin’.”  He shrugged.  “Just admirin’ yer…ah… _gumption_.  Yer a first-born princess who took it upon herself to walk right into enemy territory to eliminate a king, after a laundry list of so-called more ‘qualified professionals’ failed.  Ye willingly risked yer life to come here, even though the future of yer kingdom rests solely on _yer_ shoulders.”

Marianne averted her eyes, pretending to be nonchalant, and avoid the rather fascinated look he was giving her that was so _not_ tickling the base of her spine.

“If anything happened to me, then my sister would-”  

“Ye mean than wispy blonde from the Elf Festival?  Tch, she’s not ready to be queen; not fer a long while.  But _you_ ,” his claws traced over her collar, making it increasingly difficult to focus, “yer what a queen can only _dream_ to be.  Ye came all this way, not just to prove yerself, but to destroy what you believe to be injustice.  I have a feelin’ that yer people would consider such behavior from _you_ in particular, to be…reckless, even _stupid_.”    

Marianne set her jaw at the haunting validity of his statement.

“But in the Dark Forest, it’s called havin’ _guts_.”

She gasped, not only at his words, but also at the tingling impression of his talons lightly scratching at the top of her clothed chest.  Her eyelids sank shut.

“Yer brave, adventurous, intelligent, fiery, principled, and _criminally_ underappreciated.” 

The fog in her brain was so thick, she barely felt the first three front hooks of her tunic being undone.  There was a peculiar stirring in her groin. 

“Allow me to show ye just how _extraordinary_ ye _really_ are, Tough Girl.” 

Time came to a halt as his hand reached through the open fabric and tenderly cupped her left breast.  Had he not been holding her up, she would’ve melted to the floor as he flicked her nipple until it pebbled beneath his thumb.  She was smoldering all over and something was bubbling under her flesh like rushing water; something like… _exhilaration_. 

But that _couldn’t_ be! 

She couldn’t be _enjoying_ this! 

He was…tricking her!  He _had_ to be!

Luring her into a false sense of security so he could-!

The denial was thrown away into the recesses of her mind when the Bog King switched over and pinched her right nipple with his claws and tugged.  The sting of pain was only surpassed by the wave of molten pleasure that swept through her, prompting a lusty, drawn-out moan to pour from her lips. 

“Such sensitive skin.”  He observed, carefully dragging his talons down her torso, causing her back to bow wantonly towards him. 

It wasn’t until she heard the rasp of fibers tearing that she realized he’d unhooked the last three clasps of her tunic, and then torn the rest of it off her arms, exposing her from the waist up. 

“I wonder if ye taste _half_ as delicious as ye _smell_.”

He hugged her to him with his free arm and bent his head to lap at her breasts. 

Overwhelmed, Marianne went limp in his arms the instant his tongue stroked against her flesh.  Never before in her life had she felt like _this_!  She always assumed such…things…would occur after she became queen and chose a husband (if she so desired), so she hadn’t given it much thought. 

Now, for the first time, she was completely out of control!  The indecent sounds she was making, the lava coursing through her veins as he licked, nipped, and suckled her rosy peaks, the unfamiliar, but oh so _intoxicating_ throbbing between her legs, which she was steadily losing the ability to ignore! 

It was like a tempest; begging for some sort of…release.

A release only _he_ could give her!

Even as he caressed her lower back to soothe her, she was drowning in this storm, and her growing eagerness to give into its might frightened her.   

“I…I……,” she weakly stammered as she pathetically wriggled away from his wicked mouth, “…wa-wait, we……no, we…w-we _can’t_!”

“Why not?”

“Be-Because....we’re……you’re a…a _goblin_ , an-and…I’m a-”

“So ye wanna go on bein’ shackled by yer society’s expectations?”

“Wh-What?!  No, of _course_ not!  I-!”

“Then what are ye afraid of?  Take me, fer example:  I’m evil.  I’ve always been evil, and I dorn’t apologize fer it.  Some say my middle name is misery, because it’s all that I bring to others, but it’s how I’ve kept order all these years.  Since I was named king, there hasn’t been a _single_ fairy killed by a goblin’s hand.  Ye know this is true.”

He was-?  _He_ was the reason no more blood had been shed?

“Scuffles,” he persisted, “some with critical injuries, but just scuffles nevertheless.  The history between our kingdoms isn’t pretty, but I’ve been changin’ that, and to do it effectively, I had to be merciless and strike fear into their hearts.  They won’t obey otherwise; old habits aren’t easy to break.”      

She shivered as his fingers drifted up her neck and he resumed kissing her chest, but chastely. 

“The thing is, we’re not so different, ye and I.  Yer eyes are restless.  Ye _live_ to be defiant!  Yer also a trailblazer.  When ye have a goal, _nothin’_ can stand in yer way.  Ye proved that when ye stepped into my forest.  Ye met yer match tonight, but another seven inches and ye definitely _would’ve_ killed me.  Yet there’s _more_.  This wasn’t just about assassinatin’ an oppressor, it wasn’t even about goblin rights.  It was an _escape_.”  

“An escape?  I don’t know what you’re-”

“Ye want to be _free_.”

She froze. 

“They’re _suffocatin’_ ye.  Those old fools on yer council dorn’t take ye seriously ‘cause yer female, _and_ ye have a wild spirit that can’t be tamed.  I’ll bet even yer father has his doubts.  They say ye should be more refined and feminine.  _That’s_ why ye came here alone.  To defy them and embrace the thrill of danger.  Ye’ll never behave the way they say ye should.  The very idea makes ye _sick_.  Yer unique and yer _proud_ of it.  Am I mistaken?”  

“……I………… _n-no_.”

His calloused palm cradled her cheek and she nearly fainted when his warm breath caressed her lips as he whispered:

“Then to _hell_ with them; do what ye _want_ to do.”

He kissed her then and her vision swam from the urgent passion of it.  Her mouth opened to him right away, and she whined with need when his tongue, pointed and searing, sought out her own.  She did her best to respond in kind to every bit of his ravishing attention, but his raw masculinity was so arousing to her virtue, she found herself wanting nothing more than to surrender fully, and let him do all the work to show her ‘how extraordinary she really was’. 

But when he broke away from her lips to lave the column of her throat, the image of her father and the ever-critical, wizened faces of the council crossed her mind’s eye and her vulnerable state made her tense.

“This isn’t…I…I don’t……this is _wrong_!”

Without pulling away from her, the Bog King unclenched his legs, half releasing her, but clutched her to the length of his body, and an acute pulse of pure lust pierced her when she felt the _evidence_ of his hunger for her pressing hard against her belly.

“Does this _feel_ wrong?”  He asked gazing into her golden eyes.  “Save fer yer father, ye hate those ancient bastards, and ye dorn’t care what anyone thinks of ye.  Actually, ye _thrive_ on shockin' people.  Ye came here to murder a king and take over the Dark Forest.  Imagine the _scandal_ if ye _bedded_ the king instead!”

She didn’t answer; at least, not verbally.  How could she?  His deduction and logic was sound.  To _hell_ with the council.  All she could do then was mewl like a hussy and rock her hips towards his swollen member to ease the unbearable ache inside of her.

“Patience, my wee siren.”  He gutturally crooned tugging her back a little.  “I have to _prepare_ ye first.”

Her pout was brief, replaced by a surprised yelp as he ripped clean through her leggings with his claws.  The tattered remains, still tucked into her boots, dropped uselessly to the floor, leaving her naked before his ravenous eyes. 

She might’ve been embarrassed……had he not been looking at her like she was the moon goddess incarnate!  She was dying to wrap her arms around him, but he still kept her damn hands suspended above her head.

If only she knew that he was just _beginning_ to torture her!

His hand trailed down her flat stomach, stopping just above the patch of mahogany brown hair shielding her secret flower; the cave of her lewd agony.  She slowly spread her legs in invitation, but he refused to come any closer to her weeping center.  In no hurry at all, he teasingly combed his talons through her damp curls and massaged her thighs.  The rising frustration soon had her squirming!   

She opened her mouth to plead, but before she could utter a syllable, his claws slipped past her outer lips and brushed her clit.

As if struck by a bolt of lightning, Marianne arched forward with a feral cry of longing.  Quite pleased with her reaction, the Bog King rubbed her in firm circles and mouthed at her right nipple.  The princess rose up on her tiptoes, trying to push herself further into his wonderful hand. 

Nothing else in _existence_ could feel this amazing!  It was like the taste of the sweetest wine was flaring out from her core, yet the more he touched her, the more intense it got.  A pressure was building; to something she’d never experienced before, but was desperate to find, regardless.  She bucked her hips to urge him to quicken the pace.    

In response, he slid one, two, _three_ blessedly long digits, knuckle-deep, into her slick passage and pumped them back and forth.    

Marianne feared she might’ve lost her voice from the squeal that charged its way from her mouth, but the following repetition of the words: ‘please’, ‘yes’, and ‘faster’, quelled such concerns.  At least, until the Bog King simultaneously thumbed her pearl with vigor and curved his fingers up inside of her to stroke a spot within her that made all around her go white.

Her lungs seized up, she convulsed, and thousands of tiny explosions of pure bliss went off underneath her skin as her orgasm hit; and there was only the two of them and this bedchamber in the entire universe. 

When he withdrew his fingers and sucked her honey off each one, the bones in her legs decided to quit and she slumped, but the Bog King caught her panting, quivering form and scooped her up to his chest as she recovered.

“Shh, shh.”  He murmured, patting her back.  “It’s okay; yer okay.” 

Though slightly numb, her arms draped themselves over his shoulders, and she nuzzled the throat that, an hour ago, she’d been aiming to slit.   

What a crazy night!  Maybe she’d been placed under a curse and this was all some elaborate hallucination.

…No.

No, there was absolutely no way in hell she could’ve created his scent in her head: the soil after the rain, maple, pipe smoke, and…….blueberries!  Already, her arousal was returning _tenfold_.

She couldn’t _believe_ this was happening!  Yet, she felt not a _hint_ of remorse.  There was something…impossibly fulfilling about him.  He’d said she’d met her match tonight.  Could he have meant…her soul mate?  How else could one explain how he understood her so well and influenced her so much after meeting only a several minutes ago?  It didn’t make any sense!

But…

.

.

.

She didn’t fucking _care_!

Whatever he was doing to her, was _not_ going to end now! 

Writhing sensuously against him, she begged.

“More, _more_!”

“I hear and obey, my princess.”

He lifted her, turning her back to his front, and hooked his arms under her legs, spreading her wide open.  Her shredded leggings skimmed the floor like hanging vines.  To maintain her balance, her hands automatically grabbed the back of his neck. 

“Are ye ready, Tough Girl?”

“Yes!  Please, _yes_ , I want it!  I _want_ it!”

And then she felt the tip of his length prodding her entrance, and her heart burst as he lowered her down onto him, inch by glorious inch.  He was _huge_!  Filling her to the limit.   The source of all things beautiful on this earth, was right there, where they were joined.  But when he began to piston his hips into her, she knew she was going to die of rapture.  She clung to him for dear life, screaming and sobbing with abandon, not giving a shit for decency, as long as he _never_ stopped!  It felt so good!  So, so _incredibly_ good!

The Bog King growled and groaned in her ear, nearly undone by how responsive, wet and unforgivably tight she was as he fucked her.  Not even _he_ understood how it had come to _this_ ; how she tempted him so.  All he knew, was that he’d never met anyone like her: so bold, so alive, so _bewitching_!  Vaguely, he wondered what would happen when this was over.  Would she leave?  Well, of course, she had to…but……would she ever come back?!

He was stunned by how much the thought terrified him.  No, now that he knew such an angel existed, he couldn’t let her go.  There would not be anyone else for him.

“I must have ye!”  He panted, hammering into her with even greater strength, making her wail.  “Stay here with me.  Be my wife an’ queen!”

“Wh-Wha-?”  She breathily replied as she fought through her perverted haze to be more coherent.  “You want me to-?  Are you-? Ah!  Mmm!  Oh, God!  I-I…but……but w-we-!”

“Yer wastin’ away over there, and ye _know_ it!”  He argued, nibbling her neck and shoulder.  “Just think about it!  None would _dare_ question yer brilliance or maturity if _you_ were the one to bring the kingdoms together in _peace_!”

!!!

Dear, Lord!  He was _right_!  Ending the animosity between the Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest, even by alliance through marriage, would make her a hero for eons to come; and no one had to pay the price with their life!  Why hadn’t anyone thought of that before?

The soft burn of his scales rubbing across her back and his fevered thrusting was making concentration a chore, but she had to know.  Was this just a political move, or was he as affected by this… _strange magic_ between them as she was?

“But what about y-?”

“All I want it _you_.  I wanna know everythin’ about ye.  I want ye to know everythin’ about _me_.  I wanna show ye my home.  I don’t want ye to _ever_ go away!” 

Tears sprang into Marianne’s eyes at his words and her chest swelled with an emotion so potent, she came close to swooning. 

“ _Look_.”  He said, nodding to the full-length mirror she’d forgotten all about.  “Look how _perfectly_ we fit together.  We were _made_ fer each other!  _You_ are a fearless warrior.  Ye _belong_ in my world!”

The princess was _not_ prepared for the _insanely_ erotic sight of the Bog King’s enormous cock sliding in and out of her dripping cunt, along with her heaving breasts, and drunken, slack-jawed expression; but it all paled in comparison to the primal heat in his eyes as they met hers in the glass.  This taboo, this forbidden act; there was _no_ hope of resisting!

Then and there, she knew she wanted him the exact same way, but she had to be doubly sure…

“I won’t…oh fuck, yes…I won’t…marry a……a _dictator_!  I want-!  Mm, ah-ah-ah!  I want…b-better treatment f-for the…the goblins!

“And ye shall.  With _you_ as my mate, I will grant yer every wish.  Say ye’ll be mine, Marianne.  _Say_ it!”

“Yes!”  She cried, willingly and marvelously helpless to the sensations now permeating both her body and soul.  “ _Yes_ , Bog King!  I _will_ be yours!”

To thank her for her acceptance, the Bog King bent his knees to change the angle of his penetration and slammed his hips into hers with a new, blinding force that had her yelling and twisting like a trapped animal.  He was poking that spot again and she was winding up like a tourniquet about to snap.  _Nothing_ mattered anymore except _this_. 

“Cum fer me, my love.  Cum fer me _now_.”

On cue, the damn broke as an inferno of ecstasy cascaded over both of them like hell’s waterfall.  Marianne shrieked until her voice went hoarse, and the Bog King stiffened and shouted as they rode out their mutual climax to its trembling conclusion, embracing each other as if their very life force depended on it. 

Twitching, gasping, and thoroughly spent, Bog fell backwards onto the bed and let her go.  Marianne whimpered as she felt her husband slip out of her, but she tilted her head to level with his flushed gaze.

“ _That_ …” she huffed, “…was so……damn…… _hot_!”

“Heh, _yeah_ …” he agreed with a breathless smile, “…but I still……dorn’t know why……ye didn’t wanna……have at least……a _wee_ spar……when ye......got here.  Ye know…that’s more……our style.”

“I…told you……because… _that_......would’ve been……too loud.  Everyone……would’ve known……what we were……doing……even……your _mother_.  We hardly……get any…privacy……around here.  Discretion…was key. ”

“Point……taken......really was…a great……idea though.  I think…I’m gonna like……roleplayin’.  We should……do somethin’……like this again… _soon_.  Hey…what was yer name again?”

She whacked him playfully, inadvertently commencing an enthusiastic wrestling match that soon developed into something that let everyone in the Dark Forest castle know _precisely_ what their ridiculous king and queen were up to at such a late hour.  There were a lot of awkward silences and fidgeting to be seen among the goblins the next morning.  So much for discretion.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment and kudos!


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